


Delicate

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock knows Jim has a big reputation.





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Based this on feels and lyrics from Taylor Swift’s song “Delicate.”
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or Taylor Swift’s “Delicate” song or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Given the advancement of public transportation, there’s no _real_ reason to own a car, especially one so cumbersome as a convertible. Spock’s sure that Sarek would have something to say about the vanity of it. But Jim doesn’t have the credits for it, and his face when Spock first rolled up in it was priceless. Spock bought the old fashioned kind—tires and all—just for that: the way Jim likes to play with the wheel and lovingly caress the hood. They spent a night in it last month, rolled up at the edge of an enormous canyon, watching the busy stars. Then it putters on up to the Academy and Spock climbs out, waiting next to it. His own courses are finished for the summer—although he’ll never understand _why_ humans designate a whole two months off—while Jim’s loaded up with an extra one. He’s off at six, their dinner reservations at seven. It’s still bright and warm, so Spock stays there under the sun, legs against the sleek blue door. 

Even during the ‘off’ season, the Academy grounds are bustling. A sea of mostly humans and a few other species mill about, lounging on the lawn or strolling between buildings, even an off-key band practicing over by the indoor pool. Spock’s eyes glance past the towering sundial that rests between two fountains—he knows the time anyway, and he expects Jim to be late. Jim almost always is. But as the glass doors of the closest building open, a few of his classmates pour out onto the sidewalk. Spock recognizes most of them. A group of three Andorian girls comes down the path towards him, splitting off across the grass and giggling behind their hands. Their antennae face the wind, sampling the brisk air. 

Another man exits, his Starfleet red stretched tight across broad shoulders, and he looks up as he lumbers in Spock’s direction. Spock avoids eye contact, expecting the man to veer off anyway. But the cadet comes right up to him, stopping only half a meter apart and grunting, “Spock, right?”

“Mr. Hendorff,” Spock responds in equal measure, sure of the surname if not the first nor rank. Hendorff shoves his hands into his pockets, straightening to tower just above Spock’s head.

“So you’re Kirk’s new thing,” he starts, full of human colloquialisms that Spock has trouble picking out. His expression is a tight frown, but there’s an edge of perhaps-concern in his voice, if Spock’s reading it correctly. Human emotions can be... difficult... sometimes. “You should be careful. You’ve got a real career in Starfleet coming—you’ll probably be a full lieutenant by the time I’m an ensign, but not if you stick around _him_. Everybody knows he sleeps around and ruins everything, you know. He’s reckless. He dated my best friend last year and broke up with her for no good reason, and then he was sleeping with some brainless jock a week later! And then he—”

Spock looks past Hendorff’s shoulder, drawn to the patch of yellow-brown hair and brilliant blue eyes exiting the building. Hendorff stops, turning to look, and visibly scowls. Spock’s grateful that it cut off the tirade. He’s perfectly aware of Jim’s reputation around the campus, though he’s never once participated in such foolish gossip himself—humans just seem to spew it everywhere, unjustified and unasked for. Hendorff practically growls, then stomps off without a parting word. Spock’s grateful to be rid of him.

As Jim wanders up to Spock instead, he asks, “What was that about?” His eyes follow Hendorff’s retreating back curiously, not looking in the least bit threatened. 

Spock considers brushing the subject off, because there’s no logical reason to dwell on third-hand rumours, but he stops himself before he can. It’s a constant battle, being with Jim, having to remind himself of _human_ ways after trying to so long to be just _Vulcan_. In the privacy of a thoroughly encrypted commlink and after much prodding and pushing into Spock’s private life, his mother once told him to try and see things from his partner’s perspective. He’d like to think that if someone were warning Jim not to date _him_ , he would pay no heed to such petty antics. But he also knows that deep down, it would bother him. And Jim isn’t nearly so emotionally mature as he is.

So he tells Jim flat out, “I was already aware of your reputation before our courtship began, and I will not think less of you based on the opinions of others.”

Looking startled, Jim glances back at him, then grins and snorts, “I know. It’s fine.” Spock lifts a brow, because he’d thought he was doing rather well acknowledging his human partner’s emotional failings. Jim even adds, “And hey, in a way, I guess it’s a good thing people are talking bad about me to you.”

The second brow rises to meet the first, and Spock dryly retorts, “While such events will not inspire negative repercussions from me, I fail to see how being said to be an unstable individual could possibly be a positive thing.”

Beaming at Spock so simply, so warmly, like nothing in the world matters at all except the two of them, Jim says, “Because if you’ve heard all that and still want to be with me anyway, then I know you must really love me for me.”

Spock takes a minute to process that. Finally, he asks, “Was my word that I did so not enough?”

Jim laughs and reaches over to run his index and middle finger across the side of Spock’s hand, up along his wrist beneath his sleeve. Spock just barely manages to refrain from shuddering at the intimate touch. Jim brushes past him, kissing his cheek on the way, and slides right over the door of the convertible, down into the passenger’s seat. He tells Spock from it, “C’mon, you better drive. Rumour has it, I’ll only crash it if I do.” He winks, like such horrifying statements are amusing. Spock think he’s joking but can never quite tell.

Spock heads to the driver’s side anyway, mildly eager for dinner with his reckless boyfriend.


End file.
